


Failed Attempt - COMMISSION

by Commissions by Eonneo (Eonneo)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Character Death, F/M, Hand Jobs, Interrogation, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 19:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eonneo/pseuds/Commissions%20by%20Eonneo
Summary: If the assassin failed one more time, he would pay. But is there something worth more than his life?





	Failed Attempt - COMMISSION

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anonymous commission over on DeviantArt! It's quick and short but exactly what the commissioner ordered! Work for a customer on DA.

A stale feeling hung in the nighttime air, swirling around the two female agents. They knew there was danger in the air – it was their job to sense it and stop it before it ever became a risk to their clients. They had yet to fail a job, and tonight was going to be no different.  
The hotel stood tall and steady, most of its lights off as the patrons slept peacefully, unaware of what was unfolding around them in the city. The women, Christine and Wendy, had gotten the call earlier that day to be at the hotel at exactly 9pm. The client, Rebecca, was a bit frantic and obviously scared, but seemed satisfied that Christine and Wendy would deliver perfect service. She hadn't called them without first hearing how successful they were at their business.  
So they walked in, on their way up to the client's room, prepared for whatever horrors the night held.

***  
“I'm sorry, truthfully. This target has been nothing but trouble. I killed her last two clients, but somehow she had escaped by the time the fight was done.” The assassin was nervous, but stood strong in his points. He was making an effort, and he knew that, and he hoped the others – his mistress and her worker, here – saw it.  
The figure shook his head dismissively, though, and the assassin's heart dropped to his stomach.  
“I don't want excuses and neither does our Mistress. You know that.”  
The assassin took a deep breath, glancing behind the figure to the city and moon. He wanted to be free of this mission, having a solid and long break. He had grown used to what his job entailed, but that didn't mean he exactly liked doing it all the time.  
“I have tried, and will try again and again until I succeed. I promise,” he assured.  
The figure scratched his chin thoughtfully, eyes slivers under the city's lights.  
“There won't be an 'again and again'. The Mistress made it clear after hearing your failed attempt. You either succeed this time and kill the target, or we kill you. Simple.”  
The assassin's heart began pounding, and he took a quick, deep breath, still trying to look strong to the figure. He should've known better that the Mistress wouldn't take failure kindly. The assassin had been loyal, though. Worked hard. Almost always succeeded in what he had to do. Yet, in this moment, it was worth nothing, it felt.  
“Yes, sir,” was all the assassin said. He would not question for fear the Mistress would rescind her offer at another chance. It was generous enough she had given that.  
“Good. Now get on it. The client will be in the hotel next door tonight. You can reach her room easily by fire escape, fifth floor.” The man reached down. A box had been resting by his ankles, though it had been dark and difficult to see to the assassin. “This is what you'll use to kill the woman. A venomous snake. It's quite aggressive and very quick, so don't screw this up. Let it out in the room. That's all you have to do. Really, it's not hard to do. Alright?”  
The assassin was nervous, and took the box with caution. He heard a slight hiss, but ignored it.  
“I can do that,” he said with confidence.  
“You better,” the other man growled, before turning away from the assassin and walking into the building.  
The assassin stood quietly, box in hand, contemplating the situation. He had to do this right. He had never failed so much, and it bothered him. Why was this female so hard to kill? How could she escape so well? Who was she hiring to defend her that seemed to always do their job better than he?  
There was no time to worry or think. The woman had to die tonight, and she for sure would. He would not let her have his life.  
So he went through the dilapidated building, the other man already gone. Outside, he went around the corner to look up at the hotel. It was large and fancy, the bricks clean. Carefully, he put the snake's box in his bag, hearing hisses of protest against the movement, but ignoring it. Finding the black, rusted metal of the fire escape hidden in the darkness, he began to climb, slowly, precisely, eyeing the window he would go in. His heart pounded with each rung he climbed. This was it. This was his life on the line.  
At the correct floor, he stooped under the window sill. There were no lights in the alley, so he peaked in and watched for a few minutes. He saw no movement. There was an uneasiness that the woman could be in the shower, but with all the lights off, he doubted it. Reasoning told him she was likely asleep, and it was the perfect thing. He'd open the window, leave it open, drop the snake on her bed and get out, disappearing like he were never there. Easy. His life would be spared, and he would again be in the Mistress' good grace.  
The window was locked, of course, and so he used a special tool to pry it open. He did so slowly, as to make no noise. Once it was open, he waited more, and when nobody appeared, he stepped in. The snake again hissed, loudly, and he froze. No movement again from inside, and so he fully stepped in, taking in the fancy hotel's room in what moonlight he had to use.  
In the corner was a bed, and it looked to have a figure in it. There was no time to waste. He took the box from his pack, undid the lid but didn't open it, and sat the box on the bed. Flipping the box, he jumped back, a bit too loudly for his liking. In that moment, from around the corner, he saw to figures run towards him, one grabbing the snake right from the bed by the back of its neck., the sound of its neck snapping loud. He gasped.  
More guards! He thought, turning and tossing himself out the window to the fire escape. He furiously hurried down, the metal creaking an rattling underneath his weight, echoing into the alley.  
At the bottom, he tried to run, the end present so clearly. In his moment of bliss at freedom, a figure appeared at the end, blocking his freedom.  
“Fuck!” he yelled, skidding and turning to go up the other end. It was blocked too, and he was shocked at how quickly they had moved. How did they do it? How did that woman hire such good agents?  
Footsteps, loud, were behind him, and he ducked quick enough to avoid a punch. In that free moment, he reared back to punch the figure himself, but they also dodged. There was a flurry of dodging, kicking and punching, but nobody made contact. This figure was beyond fast, and he panicked. The snake was killed, and he had failed. For a second, he wondered if he should just let them kill him instead of avoid his Mistress' wrath. But he had to fight. He could climb back up and maybe kill his target after he killed them.  
He gave one last large kick towards the figure, but was stopped short by hands on his bare foot. He tried to shake free, but it was futile, the grip strong and sturdy. As he was focused on the foot, an arm slid over his throat, choking hard. It didn't take long for him to fade into blackness, unconscious.  
After a few minutes, he faded back in to a hand patting his face. A bit hazed by the dark alley, he was standing upright, a figure behind him, holding him with an arm. With a jerk, he tried to be free, but his hands were bound and the figure who held him was strong.  
In front of him was a woman who quite frankly was very attractive, and looked nothing like a body guard. She stood certain and straight, black hair falling around her face with a tighter, jet black dress hugging her form. To top it off, she had on black flats, and looked like death in human form.  
“Hello there. Tell me, what do you think you're doing here in this alley tonight?”  
The assassin squinted at her, but shook his head.  
“None of your business,” he assured.  
“You were in my... _friend's_ room, so it is my business. Who sent you here?”  
The assassin laughed in reply, shaking his head.  
“Nobody.”  
“You got a name, sweetheart?”  
“Not one you need to know.”  
The woman sighed, shaking her head, her hair fluttering around her cheeks.  
“I don't believe that. I want to know. Come on, I won't tell anyone you told. I promise.”  
The assassin shrugged as best he could.  
“Just kill me.”  
The woman waved her hand.  
“Oh, I don't want to kill you. I just want to know what's going on. Who is after my dear client – well, friend. Why they're after her. The normal stuff.”  
Nothing but silence hung in the air. The assassin wouldn't talk. He was dead anyway, so he would go with honor.  
With swaying hips, the woman walked up to him and ran a soft hand along his face.  
“Come on. Just talk to me. I'll make it worth your while,” she whispered to him, trailing her fingers down his hoodie, stopping just above his belt. “Just tell me what you want in return. It's only fair.”  
“No!” the assassin said surely. He would not be tricked so easily.  
The woman smiled a pretty smile, her lips glistening.  
“Are you sure?” she asked, letting her hand fall over his pants. “Nobody has to know.”  
He took a deep, short breath at the feeling of her hand over his crotch. He was a bit embarrassed at the thought of whoever was behind him, restraining him, seeing this. But he also assumed they were in on the plan.  
“I don't – I can't do that. It's treason.”  
“It's only treason if you're caught, right?”  
Was that true, or was this woman just damn good at seducing men? Even at the thought of being touched by her made him a bit hard. She was just so damn hot. And maybe he could get something good, be set free, kill them than the client. Maybe it could all work out. And if it didn't would his Mistress really kill him anyway?  
There were too many unknowns, and as the woman took a grab at his bulge through the pants, he gave in quite quickly.  
“Fine,” he sighed with a stutter.  
“Oh, I knew you'd see it my way,” she replied, undoing his button and unzipping his pants in one quick motion.  
Damn, she's good, he thought, hyper focused on watching her hand.  
His member, hard and throbbing, freed itself from his boxers. He, for a moment, again felt embarrassed, but ignored it as her fingers teased him. They ran up the length, skittering, rubbing him lightly. She smiled, placing a loose tuft of hair behind her ear with her free hand.  
“How's that?” she asked.  
“Good,” the assassin gasped.  
She first used her fingers and thumb to slowly rub the tip. His head went back, just a bit, in ecstasy as she did this. Moving to his side to be by her partner, she let her entire palm fall over his length, moving up and down it in a quick motion. He began to feel close to climax, and she slowed just a bit.  
“Don't stop, please,” he begged. She kept him on the edge a bit longer, again using her thumb and fingers at the tip, before she used her whole hand to make him finish. He gave a quick moan, releasing himself, his orgasm falling over her hand some and the ground. He was left breathing hard, amazed at how quickly she had worked him, and grateful for himself he took her up on her offer.  
“Was that good?”  
“Damn good.”  
“Now, will you talk for me?”  
“Y-yeah. What do you want to know?”  
You idiot! You're so easy!  
“Who is after my dear client, and why?”  
The assassin swallowed hard, still coming down from his climax, his member still out and a bit hard.  
“My Mistress sent me to kill her because she knows some things. I don't know what she knows, but she could put my Mistress in jeopardy. I have to protect my Mistress at all costs, and that means killing this woman.”  
The woman in the black dress nodded curiously, walking around the male.  
“That's very interesting. Where IS this Mistress of yours?” The woman was very blunt in her questioning, and the Assassin wasn't sure if he should answer. That was dangerous. Betrayal. And if she found out, he was for sure dead. But damn, was the woman good, and he had promised her that he would talk if she took care of him.  
“Well, she's-” he began, but was cut off by a small, sharp pain in his neck. He gasped for air, choking as his throat closed, before he went limp to darkness.  
The woman who had been holding him up plucked the dart from his neck, confused at what had happened so quickly. She looked over the dark, trying to figure what its purpose was.  
Her partner stepped down to check the assassin's pulse.  
“Dead,” she shortly told.  
“That's great,” her partner replied.  
As they stood in the alley, they heard a loud ringing from his pocket. The woman in the black dress knelt down and picked a phone from his hoodie pocket. It had just received a text, only with an address and a blocked return number. She smiled up to her partner at the luck they had just had.  
“Well look here, a clue!” the black-dressed woman said, smirking, handing the phone to her partner to look over the address.  
“I guess we best get on that, right?” her partner asked, looking at the address and then stuffing the phone in her own pocket.  
“Yep,” she replied, and the two left the dark alley to continue their streak of successful work, uncaring to the assassin's corpse.


End file.
